“Gregory—”
That was all he heard before he dove back into the water, pulling one leg up so he could kiss a watery path upward to her thigh. She squirmed, her hands windmilling in the water to keep her balance. He released that leg, waited for her to put her weight on it, and repeated the process with the second leg.
“What on earth do you think you’re doing?” she asked when he surfaced again. He bent to take one plump breast, bobbing on the water and clearly awaiting his attention, into his mouth. Her flesh was cooled by the water, the contrast between it and the heat of his mouth making them both moan. “Do the other one. Do the other one!” she demanded. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, urging him on.
He obliged, swirling his tongue across her nipple, savoring the feel and taste of her, but needing more. Oh, so much more.
“More!” he said, unable to find any of that suavity that he was so known for. His brain had stopped all unnecessary processes, such as language and thoughts of anything but Gwen, focusing the full of its power on one thing: his need for her.
“Hell, yes, more!” she agreed, and slapped her hands on his arms. “Now!”
He grinned and dove again, picking up the serpentine line of kissing at her knees and heading straight for her hidden secrets. He couldn’t hear her moans as he probed and touched and swirled his tongue around in a manner that he hoped would please, but he judged by the way she clutched his hair and pulled him closer to her that she was, in fact, enjoying his attentions. He knew he was, although when the dark spots began to form in front of his eyes, he reluctantly admitted that there were limits to what even he could do.
“Nnrng!” Gwen said when his head popped out of the water. Her eyes were glazed, her hands urgent on his chest. “No stop!”
“Be patient, my demanding one,” he said as he gasped for air, amused that her brain, too, had ceased its ability to form actual words. “I shall take you to the finish line, have no doubt of that.”
“Yes, yes!” she yelled, pulling at his hair. “Finish!”
Filling each hand with one rounded globe of her ass, he pulled her hard against him, lifted her up so that her legs were around his hips, and said, “You must help me, dulcea mea.”
“Are you insane?” she snarled, pounding at his shoulders. “I can’t even think, let alone do anything but teeter on the precipice of the most amazing orgasm ever. If you don’t finish it, I will die, and then you’ll have to explain to my two moms why I died unfulfilled. And let me tell you, they will have a thing or two to say about that.”
He grinned again, kissed her because he just couldn’t believe how wonderful she was, and then, for both their sakes, clarified the situation with, “You have to guide me into you, Gwen. All I’m finding is your hip socket. Unless this . . .” He concentrated for a moment. She stiffened, her eyes startled. “No, that doesn’t seem to be right, either.”
“Most definitely is not right,” she said, and reached between them to position him. “Go!”
He went. Straight to heaven, is what he would have told her had it been in his power to speak at that moment of absolute bliss. Her muscles rippled around him, gripping him in a way that he had never imagined possible, and frankly didn’t know if he would survive. Slowly he sank into her, her breath caught in his mouth as he kissed her, the sensation of both just about spelling an end to him.
But when she started to move on him, her legs flexing as she found a rhythm that left him feeling as if he was made up of flowing lava in the form of a man, he knew that he hadn’t long to last.
“Gwen. My darling. My sweet. My heaven and earth and stars. If you move like that again—no, the other way—yes, that—I’m afraid that I will be doomed to disappoint you.”
Her heels dug into his buttocks as she stiffened against him, her nails scratching his back at the same time she yelled into his mouth.
That was all he needed. Her climax caused her muscles to grip him with the force of a velvety hot vise, sending him well past what any mere mortal could endure.
“It is a good thing,” he panted some minutes later, when they lay damp and exhausted on the bedrolls, a light linen sheet covering them from view of passing sheep, deer, and the odd occasional rabbit, “that I’m not mortal, because that would definitely have stopped my heart.”
Gwen lay draped over him, her limbs tangled with his, her wet hair splayed across his neck and chest.
He’d never felt more wonderful in all his sixty-four years.
She lifted her head. “You can talk.”
“Yes. So can you.” He trailed his fingers down the silky softness of her ass. “I love your derriere. Have I mentioned that?”
“Actual words. You can say them.” She squinted at him. “You’re thinking thoughts, aren’t you? Don’t deny it; I can see you are. I can’t do anything more than quiver with little aftershocks of sheer, unadulterated rapture from what was, hands down, the best sex that has ever been performed in the whole history of mankind, and possibly the universe, and you’re there indulging in brain processes, and talking, and touching my butt just like nothing happened.”
“Oh, something happened, my sweet one,” he said with a leer.
“Gah!” she said, and slapped his chest before rolling off him, pillowing her head on his arm in a manner that he knew would leave the latter numb in a few minutes. He didn’t care. A few pins and needles would be worth it.
She stared up at the sky, now dusky with both the oncoming evening and the red haze that grew darker and more intense as they neared the battlefield.
He smiled at her. “It was pretty damned good, wasn’t it?”
“Oh, yes,” she said on a sigh. “There’s only one thing that could make me happier . . .”
He sat up and stared down at where she lay. “Woman,” he said in his sternest voice, “I have pleasured you as I have pleasured no other woman, almost to the point of my demise. You yourself state that you are even now experiencing aftershocks. You do not aftershock if the experience is in any way less than absolute perfection. Therefore, there is nothing that could make you happier, and I will thank you to retract your complaint about my performance!”
“It wasn’t a complaint—” she started to say, but he would brook no objection.
“Slur, then. It was a slur upon my manhood.”
She lifted the sheet and looked under it. “Goddess! I didn’t realize you were that large. Even all tuckered out you’re . . . wow. Gregory, I can say in all honesty that I have no slur to make against your manhood. The only thing that would make me happier is if you’d feed me. I’m exhausted with all the aftershocks, and so hungry I could eat Bottom. Well, not literally, but you know what I mean.”
“Please imagine that I am even now making a risqué play on words concerning your bottom,” he said, mollified enough that he offered her a plate of food.
“Done. Oooh, is that a crab quiche?”
“Apparently so. And this appears to be some sort of rolls stuffed with various meats. Grapes?”
They dined happily, although Gwen insisted that they put on clothing just in case someone strolled past them.
“How are you going to steal the things that Aaron wants you to steal?” Gwen asked him some time later as they lay snuggled together, watching the stars overhead emerge from the velvety darkness to twinkle down on them.
Gregory had never been one to see the romance of the night sky—so far as he was concerned, it was simply a moon and light reflected from astral bodies too far away for him to easily understand. And yet at that moment, with Gwen warm in his arms, the softness of her body pressed against his, he could have sworn that the arrangement of stars and moon was created just for them.
“Gregory?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you thinking about sex?”
He blinked at the stars, then looked down at the top of her head where it lay on his chest. One of her hands rested on his breastbone, not stroking him, just lying there. It felt right. “I wasn’
t until you asked that, but now I am.”
She laughed, pressing a kiss into his chest. “Then what were you thinking about that was so consuming you couldn’t answer my perfectly reasonable question?”
“I was considering whether or not I should attempt to write a poem to just how beautiful you are lying naked under the stars. Now I shall have to change that to an ode on making love to you.”
“I don’t think my heart could stand it,” she said lightly.
He froze, wondering if she had, unbeknownst to him, abilities to read his thoughts. Did she sense the warm feelings that had been growing with each hour of her acquaintance? He’d been careful to not acknowledge them, even to himself, lest he hurt either or both of them. He hadn’t ever been one to give his heart easily, and he knew with the knowledge born of man that in Gwen he’d found a woman who could destroy him should she so desire.
No, it was far better to keep things unemotional. Lust was fine. Sexual appreciation was appropriate. Desire was welcomed. But anything else . . . no. It was better this way.
She lifted her head and grinned at him, at the same time tweaking his nipple. “You’re not the only one who almost croaked because the sex was so good. So, how are you going to steal the stuff?”
He relaxed. She wasn’t making a declaration of his emotions after all. “I don’t know. I’ve never stolen anything before. I guess I’ll check out the camp and locate the items first, then make a plan.”
“My moms are there. I’ll have a chat with them and see if they can help. I’m sure they would. I think they’ll like you.” He felt inordinately pleased until she added, “They always cotton to the most inappropriate people. I can’t tell you how many times over the years I’ve had to separate them from bad influences.”
He pinched her ass. “That is no way to talk about a master thief, madam. Go to sleep. You’re going to need your strength.”
She sighed heavily into his chest and snuggled closer. “Yes, I know. I have that stupid armor to wear, and when we get to the camp Doug will probably make me fight right away.”
“I was referring to the method by which I am intending to awaken you,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. He’d never felt so happy in all his life. He had Gwen, and that was all he wanted.
On the heels of that thought came another one, much more disquieting. . . . How on earth was he going to keep her?
TEN
“Who the hell are you?”
“Good gravy, it’s a naked man!”
“Penny, where’s the camera? I must get a picture of him. Here, you take a picture of me standing next to him. It’ll make quite the blog post, won’t it?”
“Hey, little boy. Daddy wants some of that sugar.”
“I don’t know who you people are, or why you’ve intruded upon my privacy, but I do not intend to allow you either to photograph me or to engage in acts of sugar. Go away, all of you, before I take my woman’s sword and—”
“Now then, now then, let’s be ’avin’ none of that.”
It was the voices that woke me, and not, unfortunately, Gregory with amorous thoughts on his mind.
“Dammit, there is a woman there. She’s wadded up in the blankets. Crap.”
I sat up, blinking and shoving my hair out of my eyes with one hand while clutching the sheet to my naked breasts with the other. The sight that met me was less than thrilling.
Gregory was also naked, his hands on his hips as he stood facing a semicircle of four people—two women and two men, one of whom bore a familiar face.
“Hello, Al,” I said, holding the sheet tighter to myself. “Don’t tell me—this is another tour group?”
“Early-mornin’ Ramblers Tour,” he said with a nod and a grin. “For those mortals what like to keep fit and see the sights normal tourists don’t see.”
“Go away,” Gregory repeated. “We are not a sight.”
“I don’t know,” said one of the women, a slight, mousy-looking girl in a dowdy gray skirt and sweater. She held a camera in her hands and snapped a quick shot of him. “You look pretty good to me.”
“Penny!” the woman next to her shrieked and punched her in the arm. She had bright red hair, a sharp little nose, and was dressed all in pink. “I’m the ballsy one! You can’t say things like that—it’s my shtick. You’re the good cop, I’m the bad cop, remember?”
“Sorry,” Penny apologized, and took another picture of Gregory. “I won’t do it again.”
“See that you don’t. Now, I’m going to stand next to him, and I want you to get several shots so that I can have some mugs and book bags and things made up. I think my blog readers will love that, don’t you?”
“Oh, for the love of . . . Here.” I tossed Gregory his pants, which I was gratified to see he pulled on immediately. Penny looked disappointed.
“Hey!” her pink friend said. “Here, you, take those pants off again. No one is going to want to buy my merchandise if you’re not full-frontal.”
“Yes,” the other man in the group said in a low, slow voice. The word came out almost as a hiss. His eyes were avid with enjoyment as his gaze crawled over Gregory. “Such a fine, fine specimen. Daddy likes.”
Gregory scowled at him. “Daddy can just shove it up his—”
“I suspect,” I interrupted quickly, “that there’s no way you can end that sentence that isn’t going to be more to someone’s taste than an actual insult.”
“I saw him first,” the pink woman said, rounding on the oily man.
“Yes, we saw him first.” Penny took another picture, as if to prove her ownership.
“That doesn’t matter,” the man said, barely glancing at them. “You are only women. You cannot give him what I can give him. Daddy is always the best.”
“I don’t give a damn who was here first,” Gregory said in his coldest, most formal voice. “I have one word for all of you: scram.”
“Now, now,” Al said, sliding a sidelong glance toward me. “We’re perfectly within our rights to be where we are. Ain’t no one but ’is lordship who owns this ’ere land, and ’e’s said that all are welcome to walk on it.”
While they were speaking, I had grabbed my own clothing and clumsily donned it under the cover of the sheet. Once decent, I stood up and grabbed my sword that Gregory had alluded to. I wasn’t normally one for a show of violence, but I really had had enough of tours.
“You heard him,” I said, moving over to stand next to Gregory. I held the sword easily in my hand and tried to look as mean as possible. “Scram.”
Al eyed the sword thoughtfully, then turned to his group and made shooing gestures. “All right, now, we’ve seen the south side of the lake. We’ll be goin’ round to the north side, where ’is lordship has provided ye all with a pancake breakfast.”
“Will there be a naked man serving the pancakes? I’m quite disappointed that this one is so surly and unwilling to cooperate with the simplest of requests. Not to mention the woman and that sword. Is it a real sword? If it is, there could be a serious health and welfare violation in progress. Penny, get a picture of the sword-bearing woman just in case.”
“Daddy does not like pancakes,” the man said as Al hustled them off. “Daddy likes waffles. With a side of nubile young man.”
We watched them leave. When Gregory turned to look at me, his expression was as dark as the sky to the north. “I take it that since you are dressed, you are not going to let me make love to you as I intended to do?”
“We kind of lost the moment,” I said, with a wry little twist of my mouth. I gestured toward the retreating tourists with my sword. “I don’t think I could really enjoy myself knowing that Daddy and the Pink could happen upon us at any time.”
He sighed, pulled me into an embrace, and kissed the dickens out of me. “I will consider myself in debt to you.”
“Because I rescued you from their clutches with my spiffy sword?” I asked, giving it a little twirl as he moved over to release the horses from their hobbles.
/> “Because I owe you ground-shaking, aftershocking lovemaking at the nearest opportunity. If you will fill up our water supply, I will see to the horses.”
We didn’t encounter anyone else, tourists or otherwise, until midafternoon, although we did see signs of habitation some distance off to the west. Gregory was all for investigating what looked to be a small village, but I was anxious to check on my mothers’ welfare.
“I think we should have a game plan,” I said when we were almost within yelling distance of Aaron’s camp. People bustled to and fro just as they had the first time I’d been there. In the distance, I could make out the battle mound itself, and two silhouetted figures who danced around, the light glinting off their weapons and armor.
The sky above us was now as disturbing as it had been the first time I’d seen it, the red, roiling clouds blotted out here and there with drifting wisps of gray smoke, and the occasional rumble of thunder. The hairs on my arms stood on end as lightning flashed above. “Did you do that?” I asked Gregory.
“Do what? Oh, no, that wasn’t me.” He looked upward, examining the sky. “Why is it red?”
“I think it has something to do with the nature of the battle. Maybe it reflects the blood spilled or something?”
“You said that the battle was only single combat. That can hardly qualify for enough blood spilled to be reflected in dramatic environmental effects.”
“‘Stranger things . . . ,’” I half quoted. “About this game plan: I was thinking—”
Gregory held up his hand to stop me and pulled his horse to a stop, quickly dismounting, then standing very still and frowning in concentration.
“What is it?” I asked, reining in Bottom when he took exception to halting (he took exception to everything, but I was getting used to his ways). “Is something wrong?”
“No. Wait for it.”
“Wait for what?”
Gregory held up a finger, then grinned and reached up to snatch something out of the air. I’d caught just the glimmer of lightning as it started to stretch out across the sky, but Gregory had caught it before it could go anywhere and redirected it down his body. He was lit up in blue and white light that sparked and snapped off him for a few seconds before dissipating.
The Art of Stealing Time t-2 Page 17